To A Lost Lover
by Fire The Canon
Summary: [His admission had stirred something inside me, and I almost threw myself at him in my delight, but we both knew it was the wrong timing. He admitted many years later that he'd only found the courage to tell me in that moment because he thought we would be dead in a few months' time.] Hermione writes her final farewell to her husband. For Empress.


_**Written for Empress (Empress Empoleon) as my February fic for the Gift Giving Extravaganza**_

_**Written for lezonne's Duct Tape Competition: Pink - write about your OTP**_

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><p><strong>To A Lost Lover<strong>

_TO A LOST LOVER_ by Hermione Weasley

We've all heard of that fateful day, not so long ago, where the small group of Aurors in that little Irish pub were double-crossed by one of their own. No one suspected it, and no one suspected the events that would follow.

My husband, Ron Weasley, was one of the victims that day, and I am sharing with you his story – or, our story.

I met Ron when I was just eleven years old. We were both on our way for our very first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had been brought up in a world of magic where he was told bedtime stories by Beedle the Bard and used his spare time to play Quidditch with his brothers. I, on the other hand, attended a Muggle primary school and went shopping with my parents in Muggle London. We travelled by car, not Floo, and magic was only a fairytale to me until I got my letter.

Our first meeting was hardly one of our good memories. It took many months for the two of us to even say nice words to each other, let alone become friends. I remember the days not so long ago where we would look back on those memories and laugh. Our children are nearing that age now, and there are so many similarities between them and us.

Ron always said that our nine-year-old daughter, Rose, would turn out exactly like me. Although I do see similarities between myself and her, everything beautiful about our little girl comes from her father. Hugo, our son, is very shy and quiet. He does remind me of myself before I came to Hogwarts. Ron would always laugh when I told him I was once subdued, but it is true. My younger Muggle school years are not memories that I hold close.

I found happiness at Hogwarts. All the times I was called weird, or strange, suddenly made sense to me. I was excelling in all my classes, and I was happy. I had two friends – the very best friends one could ever wish for – and they liked me.

Somewhere between meeting Ron in my first year and the Yule Ball in my fourth year, my feelings for him changed. I was suddenly overwhelmed by such strong passion, strong desire, and every little thing he did – anything that indicated he may not have felt the same way – upset me. It frightened me at first, these feelings, but come the end of our fifth year, and he was all I could think about. It was thinking of him that made me happy.

Not many know of this, but our first admission of our feelings came between the end of our sixth year and before our Horcrux hunt, mid 1997. It was he who made the first move, it was he who told me the truth. I was too scared to even utter the thought, and it had taken him a week and a half to finally get it out.

However, his admission had stirred something inside me, and I almost threw myself at him in my delight, but we both knew it was the wrong timing. He admitted many years later that he'd only found the courage to tell me in that moment because he thought we would be dead in a few months' time. What would have happened had our relationship began out of fear?

Our sole focus had to be defeating Voldemort, anything else – provided we lived through the ordeal – needed to wait. We both understood that, but it was difficult. Sometimes our hearts got in the way of our heads; sometimes all I wanted to do was fall into his arms, to be eighteen-years-old, and for him to tell me it was all just a bad dream. We longed for a normal life then, and because we couldn't have it, it only made us want it more.

It was I who said those three words first. It was almost a year – to the day – after he told me how he felt. The war had ended, we were curled up together in an armchair – just the two of us – and it felt right to tell him. I loved him. It was the first time I'd said it out loud, but I had known for a long time before that. I'd known for years, even before I'd known he returned my feelings.

Our lives became quite public after that. We could barely go out for dinner without it ending up in the papers. Life after the Second Wizarding War was difficult. We once again wanted that normal life, but something would always interfere. Myself, Ron and Harry were all offered to join to Auror department at the Ministry, training beginning immediately. We had proved ourselves in that war, and school marks did not matter. The department had lost a lot of casualties and they needed to rebuild as soon as possible.

I declined, but Ron and Harry accepted. I wanted to finish my schooling; I wanted to get the marks to prove that I had earned my place there. And I did. If I had wanted I would have been the first one accepted into the program after the NEWT results were released. Though, I had done enough fighting to last me a lifetime. I accepted a job in the Magical Creatures department. Fighting for their rights was a cause I believed in, and I knew something had to be done.

We were married in 2003. It was quite a small wedding – only family and our closest friends – and two-and-a-half-years later we welcomed Rose Nymphadora Weasley into the world.

Our lives as parents was something that was kept fairly quiet. Our main focus was to try and keep our children out of the spotlight as much as possible. Our time with them was our break away from it all. There was nothing better than spending time with little Rosie, and Hugo when he was born.

Only those close to us know of the fears Ron felt before the birth of his daughter. Some might put it down to worry, to nerves, but it was obvious that what Ron felt was more than that. We started discussing children a year into our marriage, and to be honest, when Ron first told me he wasn't ready, I put it down to him wanting to spend more time with just the two of us before we made that commitment. The second time I asked him and he told me the same thing I thought he was simply worried. He said we didn't have enough money, the flat we were living in was too small, and that we both worked far too much to raise a child. All plausible reasons and I let it slide for a little while longer.

The third time was when I realised it was more. He was genuinely afraid. Not of having a child, but of being a father. He gave me the same excuse as the previous time, but it was just that, an excuse. Financially, we were in a good position and we had just bought our own house in a suburb of Huddersfield. What truly frightened him was the thought of being a father. He didn't believe he was capable of raising a child. He didn't think he could love a child enough, that he'd be any good at it. Essentially, he didn't believe he was good enough to have a child.

Even after Rose was born, when it was impossible to miss the devotion he had to his daughter, he still didn't believe that everything he was feeling, everything he was doing for her, was enough. It took him months to realise that, and even nine years later I am still not sure he truly believed it.

Many don't know that about him, and if he were here he would ask me not to write it; but he loved his children, and that is something I feel needs to be said. He could never truly believe he had a family, but he did, and he loved them. And we loved him.

It has been six weeks now, and Rose and Hugo still sometimes ask me where their daddy is. They are old enough to understand what has happened, and they know that he won't come back to them; but they miss him, and that is probably the hardest part in everything that has happened. Harder than the day Harry came to my house to tell me what had happened – bruised and battered himself. Harder than the funeral when I had to say goodbye to my husband. Watching my children suffer without their father will be something I do not think I will ever get over.

Ron lost his life doing what he loved. For as long as I have known him being an Auror was always his goal, and he was good at his job. Many dark wizards captured over the years have been partially thanks to him.

We will all miss him, but I will always miss him as my husband, the father of my children, and my very best friend. He will always be with us, in every decision that I make.

Ron, I love you, and I always will love you. You were always the one to cheer me up when I was feeling down, make me laugh when I didn't feel like laughing. Being with you was the happiest I have ever been.

You'll forever be with me – with us – and one day we will see you again.

I love you.

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><p><em><strong>Empress, I hope you like. Sorry for the angstiness in here, but this idea has been floating around in my head months now.<strong>_

_**Which obviously means this fic is not, in any way, shape or form, some rebellion thing from all that JKR nonsense about Romione at the moment. It's just impeccable timing. And to anyone who is worried about this so-called interview, don't be. They're quotes published by an unreliable source. Chill :)**_

_**Thanks for reading. **_


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